


The Sorcerer's Apprentice

by StrangelySmitten (BotanyCameos)



Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9331328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotanyCameos/pseuds/StrangelySmitten
Summary: PWP Strordo (Mordo/Dr Strange).Stephen is in a hurry to learn, and ends up finding out things about Mordo that he hadn't expected...





	

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet was written for a prompt in the [Doctor Strange Kinkmeme over on tumblr.](https://doctorstrangekinkmeme.tumblr.com/post/155112509975/)
> 
> This fic is set in the MCU, but Mordo is frequently referred to as a baron, which is his aristocratic title from the comics.   
> We don't know yet if he holds the same title in the MCU, but it is likely, and Chiwetel has called him Baron Mordo in interviews, so most likely. 
> 
>  
> 
> Many thanks to Basil (Meowrails) for the beta'ing! :D

 

Ever since his big breakthrough on the side of the Everest, Stephen Strange had submerged himself in study and practice even more deeply than before, progressing in leaps and bounds faster and faster, which further fanned the flames of his urge to learn and improve.

And now that he’d reached another of the big milestones in a sorcerer’s training by mastering the basics of astral projection, Stephen was hellbent on getting to the next one as soon as possible: learning how to astral project into another dimension, specifically, the realm of dreams.

The Ancient One had naturally cautioned him about the risks of attempting it before he was ready for it, and the considerable dangers that the Dream Sovereigns in the different realms posed, especially Nightmare.

But Stephen was aware that she had placed a number of protective barriers all around Kamar Taj that made it impossible for any of those entities to do him serious harm as long as he was under her roof. So since he could not be captured, killed or maimed by any of them while within the protective barriers, he was sure that whatever mischief they may manage to throw his way once he succeeded at entering a dream would be little more than an inconvenience at worst.

From his point of view, there was no real reason to be worried about, so with the recklessness of apprentices, he redoubled his efforts to learn the ritual quickly.

Finally, after expanding quite a bit of energy, he felt his astral form getting sucked outwards and into the other dimension.

 

 

 

~*:･ﾟ*ﾟ･:*~

 

 

Mordo admired the contrast between the darker skin of his hand and the pale expanse of flesh bared for his caresses. That sight was almost as aesthetically appealing as the sensations were pleasurable.

In a slow, relentless invasion, Mordo’s cock split the man beneath him open, sending shivers through Strange’s lithe body.

The American was so tight and warm, and the way he radiated desire and trembled softly as he was breached only added to Mordo’s experience. Strange writhed beneath him, pushing up to meet the other man’s touch.

Every instant of it was a delight to Mordo, vastly enhanced by the completely out-of-control look Strange was sporting, utterly lost to the cravings of the flesh.

Pressed face down onto the bed, Strange’s lips were parted to take in shallow little pants, his eyes wild, hair tousled and body wracked with frissons of desire and need. On his knees like an offering for Mordo, he was practically undulating with want, arching his back to press his body upwards in an attempt to speed up the penetration. Little throaty gasps escaped his lips with each of the baron’s movements. He was a perfect picture of lust and sensuality incarnate.

Mordo kept a firm control of the situation, one hand pressing down on the small of Strange’s back to immobilize him, and the other over his shoulder, leaning on the bed next to his face, forearm across Strange’s shoulders, pinning him in place. The disciple could have _tried_ to buck him off, but Mordo would have been quick to discipline him. Besides, at that moment, the only thought in Strange’s mind was doing all he could to impale himself faster on the cock filling him far too slowly. He let out a cross between a moan and a whine in complaint.

 

“You are incorrigible, Strange. You never listen to reason.” The baron refused to rush things or allow Strange to take any of the control over the situation away from him, and continued his tantalizingly slow invasion of the tight warm sheath offered for him.

 

Stephen alternated between wanton sounds of protest, and straining to lick and suck at the fingers of Mordo’s hand that was pressed to the bed by his head, whether in an attempt to mollify or distract him, Mordo did not know.

The Transylvanian slid his thumb into Strange’s mouth to silence his whining. To his surprise, Stephen immediately started sucking on it, with such dedication and total abandon that he seemed like a man lost at sea clinging to that one plank that kept him afloat.

With a sigh of pleasure, Mordo pushed in the last bit, finally buried to the hilt inside Strange, the top of his thighs pressed against the American’s enticing backside.

Strange was shaking harder by now, but he was being so, so good, and rather than try to bounce on Mordo’s cock like he so wanted, he was obediently sucking the thumb still in his mouth, moaning softly around it and lapping at any skin he could reach. The baron watched Strange trembling with need for a while longer, then took pity on him at last.

 

“You’re being so good, for once.” He caressed Strange’s trembling rump soothingly, kneading the flushed cheeks a little and relishing how easily his fingers left marks on the pale skin. “So good for me, Stephen.”

 

It was only fair to reward him for it.

Mordo gripped Strange’s hips with both hands, angled himself just right and pulled almost all the way out of him, sliding back inside in a single smooth thrust that prompted a throaty groan from the American.

He knew every angle and move that Strange favored, and how to wring as much pleasure as possible from his body. The baron started a rapid rhythm, battering Stephen’s prostate and causing the disciple’s moans to turn into wails of pleasure and broken up strings of words, an escalation of sensation eventually culminating with him begging Mordo all manner of filthy things. To make him his and mark him in ways that could never be erased, to make it so that no one could ever doubt who he belonged to. To lock him away and keep him from the world, making him exist for his cock only: a secret lover bound and gagged, offered for his enjoyment at any time of day or night, however Mordo may wish. Secret kinks or forbidden desires that came rolling out of Strange’s lips unbidden only once the balance tipped over and the pleasure became too much, making him lose whatever veneer of control over himself that he still might have retained.

Music to the baron’s ears.

Strange was a slick and quivering mess by now, utterly wrecked and sobbing from pleasure with each thrust. He looked magnificently debauched.

Mordo was delighted by how responsive and how completely undone the American was. Soon his rhythm turned erratic, and a few more thrusts later, the baron climaxed inside him, filling him with his seed and pushing him over the edge as well. The long moan Strange made as he came was both incredibly erotic and oddly endearing to Mordo.

Mordo thrust inside him a few more times, milking every drop of Strange’s release and reveling in the way the disciple’s body reacted, almost over-sensitive by now.

Strange pressed up against him nevertheless, as if not wanting it to end, even as some of the ejaculate leaked out of his well-used hole. His chest heaved with the aftermath of his own release, out of breath and panting.

 

 

 

~*:･ﾟ*ﾟ･:*~

 

 

 

Stephen shot back up to a sitting position, breathing heavily and gathering his wits as he awoke. The eerie sensation of his astral body merging back with his physical one was something he was not quite yet used to, and it left him disoriented.

His face was burning, and he didn't need to look to the small mirror on the wall in his room to know he must be red as a beet.

_What the hell was that?!_

He had succeeded at crossing into the dream dimension and had naturally been drawn to the dreams of someone nearby with whom he felt instinctively safe, Mordo.

But he had never expected to find Mordo dreaming _that!_ Especially about him! And especially…so intensely.

He’d been so shocked by the sight that he hadn't known what to do, afraid of accidentally alerting Mordo to his presence there. He didn't know whether Kamar Taj had rules against astral peeping toms, but the last thing he wanted was for Mordo to find him watching.

He knew that he should leave immediately, but he couldn't force himself to. He told himself it was just morbid curiosity --after all, the dream was about him--, but the fire coursing through his veins as it progressed suggested it was far more than that.

He’d ended up watching the whole thing, torn between shock and fascination, and only slipped out once it was over and it looked like Mordo might end up noticing him.

He was still reeling from what he had seen in the dream.

_Does he really see me that way?!_

And was this a random one time occurrence? Or a recurring dream?!

Did Mordo have control over dreaming it? The man was after all, extremely composed in all that he did, so Stephen wouldn't be surprised if that control extended to what fantasies he had in his sleep. Lucid dreaming was an easy thing to accomplish for a skilled mage.

The idea that this dream may not be accidental sent shivers skittering along Stephen’s skin. He didn't know how to put into words what he was feeling, despite how sexual his life had been back when he was a successful surgeon, something that felt like a whole lifetime away, these days. Time seemed to be meaningless in Kamar Taj.

He thought back of the wanton image of himself beneath Mordo, pliantly arching up his hips to meet each of the baron’s thrusts, the most obscene mewls and moans spilling from his flushed lips. Utterly owned and dripping with pleasure. A picture of lust worthy of all the mystical imagery about incubi and succubi.

The burning on his face was even worse now. Not to mention, an even fiercer heat pooled lower in his body.

It occurred to Stephen now, in a vague thought, that perhaps Nightmare or, possibly, some of the other Dream Sovereigns (there was such a thing as a realm of the erotic dreams, after all), had _other_ methods to get to the people inside Kamar Taj.

And what better way to stealthily throw chaos and disarray among your opponents than by using sex, and the influx of such distracting, intoxicating images? Maybe it wasn't lucid dreaming after all.

To make matters worse, the sheer erotic power of the scene, combined with the memory of Mordo’s control and strength had made Stephen’s pants feel terribly tight even in his astral form, a sensation that was infinitely worse now that he was back in his body. He’d hoped the raging hard-on would abate once he left the dream, but returning to the material world had only exacerbated things.

He resisted a while longer in vain, then surrendered and palmed himself through the rough blue cotton of his sorcerer’s garb, a moan escaping his trembling lips as the pressure against the sensitive flesh made his need even more tangible.

_Damnit. What now?!_

He let himself fall back on the bed and bit his lip, his mind inevitable straying back to the images of Mordo spreading him open and thrusting into him. His hands shook at his sides, far too unsteady and throbbing with pain to allow him any relief. He considered abandoning the semblance of dignity to rut into the bed, and groaned with shame.

 

One thing was certain. Their next private sparring session was going to be incredibly awkward.

 

~ the end ~

  


**Author's Note:**

> Note: This fic was written for the following prompt:
> 
> _Strordo prompt: Stephen has/gains the ability to enter the dreams of others. One night, he decides to enter Mordo’s dream… right in the middle of a steamy, sexual fantasy scenario that Mordo is having about him._
> 
> Note 2: Since this is just a ficlet to fill the prompt, I simplified the concept of spell barriers to protect against dream sovereigns. Normally, it would only work on/around the beds, if you fell asleep in some random place that's not your bed, you'd be vulnerable to attack and capture, something that has happened to Strange in the comics! (He was exhausted from pushing himself too hard for too long, fell asleep at his desk in the Sanctum and was captured by Nightmare.)
> 
> Note 3: I wanted to make the summary for this fic “In which Stephen gets trolled by the realm of dreams, Mordo has a good time & wakes up very relaxed, and Stephen develops an unfortunate case of the blue balls & of fits of blushing each time he glances at his teacher in the courtyard the next day”, but it was too spoilery of the contents of the fic. XD lol
> 
> Imho, they totally ended up in bed together (outside of dreams) a few days later. :P


End file.
